


I Got You (Like You Got Me)

by bigficenergy



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Bad Days, Biphobia, Comfort Food, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Food as a Metaphor for Love, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Social Media, taking care of each other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:55:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26053042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigficenergy/pseuds/bigficenergy
Summary: How Henry and Alex might care for each other when the other has a bad day.
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Comments: 18
Kudos: 142





	I Got You (Like You Got Me)

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter one is Alex having a not-so-great day, and chapter two will be Henry having a not-so-great day. Food plays a starring role in both days, because food is THE love language.
> 
> Title inspired by ["Got You" by Noah Reid](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uBpL2_z-sbU), because I have not forgotten where I came from. 😉
> 
> A note on the Biphobia tag: In this story, and unspecified media outlet writes some stuff speculating about the legitimacy of Alex's bisexuality. You're getting most of this information from Alex and Henry's reactions to it, and it's mostly descriptions of what's being implied, I didn't actually write up a nasty article for this (I'm bi and I didn't even like doing this much to Alex, even when I knew it would end in Henry taking care of him). We all have different thresholds for this kind of thing though, so of course, read or don't read based on what you feel okay with. 💜

“You’re going to wear a hole in that very nice rug, love.”

Henry watches as Alex continues right on pacing back and forth in their living room.

“Did you _see_ what they’re saying?” Alex asks, gesturing with his phone.

“Yes, I am in the group chat.”

“Look, did Nora and I mess with reporters in the past? Sure. It was funny back then. Funny when we were single, funny when I didn’t know about this other facet of my identity that people think they have the right to pick apart-”

“It’s not exactly a reputable news source-”

“Other outlets are picking it up! And they’re framing it as concern for you, but if they really thought I was cheating on you, they would be writing up the photos of me visiting Liam last month too. But big surprise, they’re only using photos of me with a female friend, so they can speculate about the legitimacy of my sexuality, because apparently they don’t know what bi means!”

“Well, Liam’s boyfriend was with you two the whole time…”

“ _So_ not the point.”

“Okay, Alex, darling,” Henry says, stepping in front of Alex and placing his hands on his shoulders to stop him in his tracks. “You’re right. It’s absolutely moronic, it’s clearly in bad faith, but it is also _beneath you_. We are in a very happy, healthy relationship. You and Nora are great friends and incredibly well-adjusted exes. And regardless, the fact of your bisexuality doesn’t rely on me or Nora or anyone else. Think about how people rallied around us before. I have to imagine some of those people are coming to your defense now.”

“They shouldn’t have to.”

“I know.”

“It’s so stupid.”

“I know.”

“So why…” Alex sighs and drops his forehead against Henry’s shoulder. “Why is this getting to me so bad?”

Henry sighs too, wrapping his arms around Alex.

“Well, I don’t believe you’ve ever had a small feeling.”

“Are you really insulting me right now?” Alex asks without lifting his head.

“Of course not. You’re passionate, I love that about you. But you feel the bad things passionately as well. And while you are well within your right to be upset, I’d hate for you to let it consume you. So here’s what we’re going to do.” He takes Alex’s face in his hands and tilts him up to look at him. “Is there something you can work on today? Something to take your mind off all of this?”

Alex rolls his eyes. “I guess I could be prepping for mock trials.”

“Good. So you’re going to prepare for your mock trials. And if you finish that, you’re going to find something else to focus that doesn’t involve social media. In fact…”

“Hey!” Alex protests half-heartedly when Henry takes his phone.

“You are going to turn off all of your non-essential notifications.”

“What’s non-essential when you’re a public figure though?” Alex asks wryly.

“Today, you are not a public figure. Today, you are a law student, focusing on your studies. So you are going to tune out the rubbish and exercise that beautiful brain of yours.” Once he’s silenced several of Alex’s apps, he gives him back his phone. “I am going to be in meetings all day, but then tonight, at 7, you’re going to meet me for a very nice dinner at that new French place.”

Alex shakes his head. “I’m not feeling great about the idea of us taking over a brand new small business so we can have dinner because I had a bad day.”

“We can be discreet without making too much of a fuss. The back patio is small, we wouldn’t be too disruptive if we just reserved that area, and made sure to tip them handsomely.”

Alex raises an eyebrow.

“I was looking to take you for Valentine’s Day, so I’d done some research,” Henry explains with a shrug.

A small smile manages to slip through Alex’s tense expression.

“You sap. And you call _me_ passionate.”

“Yes, well, on that note,” Henry says, giving Alex a quick kiss, “I need to get going. Can you manage?”

“Yes, I can manage.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to be a law student until 7, and then I’m going to meet my boyfriend for some _coq au vin_.”

“You didn’t even try to get the pronunciation right, did you?”

“What can I say?” Alex says, wrapping his arms around Henry’s waist. “You’ve got me thinking about Paris now.”

“Alex…” Henry warns.

“You wanted me distracted. Memories of Paris? _Very_ distracting.”

“Yes, I know,” Henry says, voice dropping lower. “If I think too hard about Paris, I’ll never make it out the door.”

He kisses Alex, lush but brief, because he really does have to go.

“Seven o’clock!” Henry calls on his way out.

“Seven o’clock,” Alex agrees.

And then he’s alone. He looks at his laptop and books on the coffee table, then down at the phone in his hand. He opens the group chat, just to let June and Nora know that he’ll be going silent for the rest of the day, but the last image in the chain drops him right back into his spiral. It’s one of the photos circulating of him and Nora, an especially infuriating one because they’d cut June out of it just to fuel the bogus narrative that fickle-FSOTUS Alex Claremont-Diaz was stepping out on his “royal beau” to sneak around with his “former flame,” and whether that meant the Prince had simply been “a phase.” He taps his message out quickly, briefly considers the fireplace, then makes the smarter call of chucking his phone at the sofa, where it sticks satisfyingly between the cushions.

“Out of sight, out of mind,” he mutters to himself, before turning to his laptop and his books.

From there, it’s actually very easy for Alex to sink into his work. He has a dedicated workspace in the brownstone, but when Henry isn’t home, he’ll sometimes take over the living room so he can really fan out all of his various reading materials and notes. When he starts to get worn out on practicing for pretend trials, he types up an outline he doesn’t need until study group at the end of next week, gets ahead on his reading, then goes back to trial prep. Everything else fades into the background. He remembers to eat only when his stomach growls loud enough to startle him out of his thoughts. He turns a lamp on on autopilot when the sun starts to recede from the room, but the passage of time doesn’t register at the forefront of his mind.

So when he hears the front door open, he’s momentarily confused. And then his stomach drops.

Slipping on an open notebook, he dives for the sofa and fishes his phone out of the cushions, hoping against hope that it’s not yet 7:00, and Henry just decided to come home to change before dinner or something.

It’s 8:27. He has _several_ missed calls and texts.

“Yes, this is about what I expected,” Henry says, turning the corner into the room and taking in the scene. But he doesn’t look or sound angry. If anything, he seems mildly amused as he unbuttons his coat with the hand not holding a big paper takeout bag.

“H, I am so, _so_ sorry-”

“I suppose this is partially my fault, so really, it’s alright.”

“No, it _really_ isn’t. How long did you wait? Oh god, did anyone see you? Did people see me stand you up?”

“You didn’t stand me up, you lost track of time, which you are known to do, so I figured it out fairly quickly. I just had to wait for the food.” He clears his throat. “But yes, there may have been some not-so-subtle patrons with their phones out when I came in and as I was leaving.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Alex groans. “Now I’m just feeding the narrative I spent all day trying to ignore!”

“ _Alex_ ,” Henry says, just enough of an edge of authority to get Alex to take a breath. “Please. Relax. Now, I’m glad to see you did eat something today…”

He’s referring to the cereal box on the coffee table, tipped on its side and half obscured by papers. They both know Alex had eaten handfuls of cereal, dry, straight out of that box.

“But you’re due for a proper meal,” Henry says, holding up the bag. “And I am too. Come on. _J’ai faim_.”

In the kitchen, Henry puts Alex on beverage duty, then orders him to sit at the table while he re-plates the food from the takeout containers. Alex takes a large gulp of his wine, wincing at the burn, teeth gritted and fingers itching to check social media for the blurry pictures of Henry entering and leaving the romantic little restaurant alone. But then Henry starts setting the table and… well. He starts saying more things in French.

“ _Fromage du jour_ ,” is the first dish, set in the middle of the table. Wedges of brie and gorgonzola, arugula salad, pecans, apple slices, and fig jam, arranged so professionally you’d never know it had come out of a to-go box. Henry sets the next plate in front of Alex.

“ _Pour mon chéri, poulet à la provençale_ ,” he says, the endearment taking hold of Alex’s brain so fully that he almost misses the name of the dish. “No _coq au vin_ on the menu tonight, sorry darling,” Henry adds cheekily.

He goes around the table to sit across from Alex, setting down the last two plates and their silverware.

“I opted for the _gigot d’agneau à l’ail_ , but the porcini risotto sounded good too, so I figured we could share,” he says, settling in and taking out his phone. “Now, are you still feeling anxious about uninformed public perceptions?”

Though the sound of Henry speaking French is soothing, and also often _stimulating_ , it’s not enough to undo all the knots in Alex’s stomach today. He telegraphs this by putting his elbow on the table, leaning his cheek on his fist, and frowning. Henry taps his phone a few times, then holds it up to take a photo.”

“Very well then. Show me how guilty you feel.”

Alex scoffs, surprised and a little offended.

“Good,” Henry says. “At least part of you knows you don’t actually need to feel bad about this. But this won’t do. I need you to look very, _very_ sorry.”

Alex narrows his eyes at him, but he can tell by the smile pulling at the corner of Henry’s mouth that this is a game of some kind, something he has a plan for. So he follows Henry’s lead, making his best puppy eyes at him, pouting his lower lip out just so. Henry barely manages to take the photo before he has to laugh, bright and genuine, eyes squeezed shut and shaking his head. It’s infectious, and Alex shakes his head and laughs too, relaxing the fist he’d been leaning on and covering half his face with his open hand instead. Whatever the rest of his face is doing prompts Henry to snap a second picture.

“Perfect,” Henry says. “Go on, dig in, this will only take a moment.”

But Alex is anxious to see what Henry is up to, so he grazes slowly at bits of the cheese plate while Henry types away. The second he finishes and sets his phone down, Alex pulls his own out of his pocket. All of his social media notifications are still turned off, so he takes a guess and opens Instagram, where he finds that he has indeed been tagged in a new post.

Henry isn’t nearly as active on social media as Alex, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t _get it_. He’s posted both photos, touched up just enough to emphasize the warm lighting, the food and wine in front of Alex telling the story of a romantic dinner in the comfort of their own kitchen. Alex swipes between his pouty face and his laughing one, and can see in the latter that Henry has captured the moment when he finally started letting the day go. Beneath the already rapidly accumulating likes, Alex reads the caption:

 **_@princehenryfmw_ ** _This is the face of someone who dealt with a bad day by burying his nose so deep in his textbooks, he forgot to meet me for dinner. He is very sorry. I, however, am not sorry. We should be so lucky to have a future lawmaker who works so hard and with such focus, even when distractions abound. Balancing our work with our public and private lives is at times a challenge for the both of us, but there is no one in the world I would rather have by my side as we muddle through. As for dinner, we’d like to thank Meredith and Cecilia at @cafemerci for so gracefully accommodating our change of plans. We look forward to stopping in together soon for the full experience. À votre santé, et bonne nuit._

When Alex looks up at Henry, he’s busying himself with his knife and fork, but he smiles and meets Alex’s eyes.

“You just made that restaurant the most popular place in New York,” Alex says, putting his phone down.

“That’s your primary takeaway?” Henry asks cooly, taking a bite of his lamb.

Alex grins, picking up his silverware and starts in on his meal before adding, “ _Lawmaker_ , huh?”

“I assume there is a purpose to your all-encompassing studies. Eat your dinner before it gets cold.”

“Oh I’m gonna eat anything you ask me to tonight.”

Henry coughs delicately around the food in his mouth, and looks flushed when he reaches for his wine glass. Alex grins.

“I just meant that I’m assuming there’s dessert,” he lies, looking at the bag on the counter behind him. “There is dessert right?”

“A trio of them, no less,” Henry says, after clearing his throat. “Panna cotta, chocolate tort, and…” he gives Alex a pointed look “...a lemon _tart_.”

“I know what you’ll be having,” Alex says, to which Henry scoffs, but he’s smiling. Alex presses his foot against Henry’s ankle under the table, and bids a bad day farewell over an excellent meal with his boyfriend.

* * *

“Bea says that mum says that gran asked why we bother with a Royal Family Social Media Team if I’m just going to go rogue on ‘Instantgram’,” Henry reports as Alex joins him in bed later that night. “She really did call it ‘ _Instant_ gram.’ I’m shocked Bea stopped laughing long enough to send a text.”

“Meanwhile, my mother is asking if you’ve ever considered a career in public relations,” Alex says, holding up his phone to indicate the text he’d received before plugging it into the charger and setting it on the nightstand. “Which is funny considering the part you played in me almost tanking her reelection.”

“Yes, and I think I’ve done quite enough to besmirch my lineage, don’t you?” Henry quips. “Still, that’s a kinder response than our dearest friends.”

He holds up his phone to show him the group chat, where Nora and June have both sent a string of queasy-face emojis, presumably a coordinated attack in response Henry’s Instagram post since he keeps his comments turned off. Pez had chimed in to tell them to be nice, but the sentiment is slightly eclipsed by the row of laughing emojis he’d sent before it.

“It’s nice that they’re so supportive,” Alex says. “But now, I think it’s your turn to silence your notifications for the night.”

“And why would I do that?” Henry asks, to which Alex responds by sliding his hand under Henry’s t-shirt, up his stomach. Henry hums, reaching over to set his phone down on his side table. “I suppose that’s as good a reason as any.”

He’s barely done speaking before his lips are on Alex’s, and then Alex is kicking away the covers to roll on top of him. Henry’s hands go to Alex’s waist as Alex braces his hands on the pillows to pull back and look down at him.

“Thank you for tonight. I am sorry I spaced out so hard.”

“It’s alright,” Henry says, sliding his hands up Alex’s back. “Are you feeling better now?”

“Yes,” Alex says, kissing him. “And our next fancy dinner is on me.”

“Sounds fair,” Henry agrees, between more kisses.

“ _And_ ,” Alex says, placing his next kiss on Henry’s jaw, “I am going to do anything you want in this bed tonight.”

“Anything?” Henry asks, squirming when Alex brushes a tickling kiss on his neck.

“Mhm,” Alex hums against his skin.

“Even…” Henry pauses for dramatic effect, then drops his voice, low and suggestive. “If I asked you to… get a full eight hours of sleep?”

Alex snorts. “Okay, I will do anything you ask of me in this bed _within reason_.”

Henry laughs and nudges Alex over so he’s laying on his side, their legs tangled together. He tips Alex’s chin up and kisses him again.

“Seven hours,” Henry whispers against his lips.

“Oh, we’re negotiating now?” Alex asks. “I think if I have to try to sleep like a normal person, you should too. You worked all day too.”

“Alright then,” Henry says, reaching over to turn out his lamp.

“Wait, I’ve made a mista-” Alex begins to protest, but Henry turns back and kisses him some more in the dark of their bedroom. 

Time seems to slow down, and Alex begins to feel his blur of a day expand into the long, busy hours he’d spent cramming information into his brain. Eventually, he has to break the kiss to duck his head and yawn against Henry’s shoulder. It’s comfortable there, so he stays, and when he feels Henry’s chest rise as he yawns too, Alex thinks that maybe a full eight hours of sleep might be manageable, just this once.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! ❤️
> 
> Yes, the French restaurant I made up for this is absolutely owned by a lesbian couple. Also, pardon my French, as in any mistakes in the French dialogue are on me. I did my best. I Googled a lot of French food and now know where all the French restaurants are in my area. 🥐


End file.
